Walton's last letter
by Robin Raephe
Summary: What became of Walton when he arrived to England.


Forever Dearest Friend,

Though it may prove my uttermost stupidity that I write to you when you went to join your lost friends into Paradise, I still owe to you my life and good fortune and this is the only devise I can ponder to grant to you my gratitude.

By the strange crossings of Fate, that store happiness for some and toils for others, as you know well by your misfortunes, I believe it was your strange and sorrowful encounter that protected me from a life of horror, so that even in the tarnished ways of some other may find their escape and deem lighter the burden of malice.

After I beared your loss, comforted only by the sole knowledge that you rested finally upon a mirrowed world of your lovely and sublime Alps, great ordeals assaulted my soul and I was drowned into a universe of dualism, as our ship made way for England. Eerie visions of a boisterous man that resembled in look I, swelled in glory, acclaimed by humanity, but burning as a furnace. I was haunted ever by so feverish a dream. Other times it was you, calm, strong of health and in good spirits, as I never met you, soothing me and saying always "T'was best this way. Return not to the icecaps evermore". And one succeeded the other and I knew not to whom to admire. All my voyage home was passed in these dreams of ataraxia and nightmare.

When I set foot in English soil, I still could not walk boldly but had to have the aid of a couple of saillormen to take me home. The little that I could reason, as I was loaded into my stagecoach, brought me into greater sadness as shame invaded all myself as I imagined meeting my loved ones a defeated man, a weak and shy boy that ran from the slightest of danger. The entire ride home I stood mesmerized picturing their disappointment hidden by a welcoming familiar warm smile. That smile would fall on me under the weight of a lightning bolt. But alas, I must meet them and deal with the shame of a failed ordeal that would have glorified their son and brought eternity to the name we bore.

I was still in this dark mood as I was aided out of the coach, when I saw the facade of our manor. It was as if the North winds set my spirit a kindled! The sublimity of home, of the ever constant love that had been gracefully bestowed upon me there on the years of my youth! As I still looked at our family's arms with a sense of regaining my name back, Margaret ran to me and unfolded me with all her sisterly love. As she did this I felt my sorrowful and ensnared spirit exorcized! She took me by my hand and forced me to run to see Father. With each step I grew lighter and able to afford the steps she demanded of me!

The brightness of our house was immense, as of a thousand suns, so much bolder than the dim sun overcast outside… I met Father on the family's resting room, and he stood before me as a pillar, as an oak tree that survives all the tempests that pass it and harbours a foundation for all that wish to find it as such. And I hurried to hug him as we wept. All dreams of glory vanished as I contemplated his pride in my coming home, he said unto me "Son, the Heavens herd all my prayers and you came swiftly home from that ghastly ordeal your temper provided to steal you away from us. I feared I would never lay these arms around you… But alas! Here you are! More glorious and more knowledgeable than you went. _T'was most certainly best this way. I beg you return not to the icecaps evermore"_.

In these last words I knew you, dear Victor, guardian spirit, guided all my path home and I chose then with utmost certitude this road and not the road of glory.

The days of happiness are so plentiful now as I and Margaret roam through the hills in search of swell spots for her watercolours. I am ever so fortunate now as any man could ever be bestowed with fortune and "glory" now is a feeling of a past tempest that assoils my soul no more except by a dim recollection of how it ensnared my future and my happiness into a nightmarish result.

I think now I owe this to the good fortune of meeting you, to your tale, to your ever constant warnings in my opium like states. May my peace and contentness be a million times more to you in your new land of _reverie_.

I owe this life to you, dearest Victor! May I find thee again in the bliss you live now amongst your dear ones, a more powerful state of what I already have.

Ever grateful and missfull,

Walton

_(Walton threw the letter to the wind. It landed on the deep ravine under, drunk by the quiet tender water of a summer sea. "Walton!, a young beautiful __red headed young lady called, "Come here! Look at the reflection on this small lagoon! My, I am not sure I have the colours for it… Walton!!", and he ran freely to join his sister.) _


End file.
